ICE BURIAL: The Oldest Human Murder Mystery (The Mother People Series Book 3) (41 page)

She must break the cycle. For a long time, she sat holding his stiff body, afraid to try but determined to try anyway.

He shuddered and seemed to relax a little against her. Pila moved closer to him. He stiffened again. Gently but firmly she pushed him down on the pallet by the fire and lay down beside him, her arms still around him. She waited again, until his trembling stopped and some of the rigidity had
left
his body
. Then she
spoke
with perfect certainty.

“That will not happen now,” she told him
.
“The images will not come because I will not let them. You must trust me now; trust that I can keep them away.” Pulling him closer still, she continued
, her voice slow and soft and gentle, as if she were
speaking
to a child.

“Lie close to me now, very close and do not think of anything but the sky, the beautiful blue of the sky that comes in the summer when we can lie outside, of the stars that come out one at a time, of the moon as it rises up to begin its circle around the sky, of the glowing sun as it moves through its course each day. Listen to the sound of the rain outside, which wipes away the snow, and when spring has come we will hear the insects call, and the frogs. Each night they will delight us with their chorus of sweet sounds, and so will the birds as they sing in the morning and settle in the trees at night. Think of the animals that will emerge from their burrows then, and how the streams will rush so loudly through their banks. Think of these things and nothing else, not of me nor of yourself or any other, only of the Mother and all She has given us….

On and on her voice went, murmuring, cajoling, keeping his attention, and all the while her hands explored every part of his body. Gradually she felt his resistance fall away. He did not move, only lay like a quiescent child, absorbing, relaxing, under her touch. She kept on talking, kept on stroking, feeling the tension come out of him, and sensing his trust in her. But then, unmistakably, he was no longer a child. She could feel the hard bulge of him against her belly. She did not give him a chance to notice and be afraid but kept up the stream of soothing murmurs, the ceaseless stroking of his arms, his chest and thighs.

Slowly, deliberately, she
allowed her hands to
become more intense, more demanding, until they were no longer the hands of a sister but those of a lover, but still she forced herself to concentrate only on what he was feeling, so she would know if he began to slip away from her. She must not let him go; she had brought him this far and she must keep him with her, must not let him think or sink back into the fear that had been with him all this time....

Her hands never ceased their steady stroking, but when she was sure he was ready, she let her voice diminish and her lips speak for her, all over his body and his face. She heard him groan with pleasure, felt his hands slowly move to her back. She placed her mouth against his and pressed hard against it, as if she would never let go, and suddenly she felt the passion sweep into him, as uncontrollable as the fear that had possessed him before. He strained against her, his body lifting with the urgency of his need. He wanted her now, wanted her desperately, and she realized with surprise that with his passion had come her own, a passion she had not felt before, had not been sure she would ever feel after what had happened. She wanted him inside her as urgently as he wanted to be held within her, but still she must not forget her purpose, so she pulled the passion into her, felt the wonder of its pleasure, then willed it back into him. He could not leave her now; she could not bear it, and so she kept on pushing the passion back into his straining body.

And then, without conscious effort, he was inside her. They were moving now as one person, inextricably joined in the urgency of their need. Every part of them moved together, the lips that clung, the tongues that explored; the hands that could not let go. Pila felt him shudder, then still more intensi
ty seemed to fill him, and
she knew he was lost in the ecstasy. An aching groan came from him; his body arched against hers as he shuddered again and again and again. But then she ceased to know what he did, for her body took over and she felt the ecstasy mount inside her, and then she was shuddering with him, the strong desperate shuddering of people who needed badly for love to erase the pain that had been inside them.

They clung to each other as the ecstasy took them once more, gentler now, then laid them softly back against the ground, spent, utterly satiated.

The baby’s sudden cries startled them. Already, he was yelling lustily again for food. Pila groaned at the interruption but fed him willingly, put him back in his cradle and lay down again beside Durak. Later in the night she woke again and realized that Durak was moving against her, his body urgent once more with his need. She pulled him close and took him into her, felt the glorious sensations that came after satiation, smaller, warmer, and then they came once again, almost spiritual now in their intensity. Toward morning, they came together in Akat again, and this time the movements were full of lust, the healthy lust of two people who understand the mutuality of their needs.

When she woke again, the light was stronger. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked at Durak. He was still asleep, his face totally relaxed, and a tiny smile curved his lips, as if he were dreaming of what had passed between them. Pila placed her own lips gently against his, not wanting to wake him but to seal the bond of love that had formed between them. She had set out to help Durak and in the process, she had helped herself, or perhaps he had helped her. All this time, without knowing it, she had been afraid she would never be able to enjoy mating after the violence she had experienced. She had been wrong, and Durak had given her that.

A memory surfaced, and her eyes opened wide with pleasure. Akat, the Mother People called mating. There were many types, the women had told them when they had all gone together to… to what? The name would not come but she knew it was a place in the woods where the young women went sometimes and men did not come. There was Akat, the woman had said, which was plain mating, and Akatelo, which was long and sensuous with lots of stroking, Akate, which was fast and lusty, and the tenderness of Akatele, and the spiritual bonding of Akatalelo that was seldom achieved. Perhaps, though, she and Durak might achieve it together if they kept trying. It seemed to her they had already tried most of the others.

No, she thought. There was one more - the playful, joyous romping of Akato. Pila grinned. Tickling Durak gently, she increased the pressure of her lips. There was just time, she thought, before the baby woke again.

***************************

Durak kissed Pila fervently on the lips
. Then he
leaped to his feet, full of an ecstatic energy he had not felt in years.
He was utterly sa
tiated with pleasure
, and both he and Pila felt
a joy so deep they could barely contain it. He wanted nothing more than to stay here with
her
and take her in his arms again
instead of venturing out into the chilly air of early spring, but his
traps had to be checked. The two deer were almost gone now and they needed more meat.

The sooner he accomplished the task, the sooner he could come back here again and be with Pila
, he told himself as he pulled on his boots.

Whistling,
grateful that the sun was finally trying to break through the clouds after days and days of relentless rain,
he strode up the steep slope to the highest trap, which was near the lake.
Just as he arrived at the trap, a
n arrow zinged past his shoulder and plunged into the earth
beside him.

Shocked out of his rapturous mood, Durak dropped to the ground and crawled behind a boulder.
That arrow had come too close! Could it be a hunter who had mistaken him for game? Or did someone want to shoot him? But why?

Abruptly, he remembered Rofina. Korg and the Leader might want revenge because he had taken her away from them. Before, he had hardly cared if they came after him; now he did. He should not have ventured outside without exercising his usual caution. He had not even remembered to bring his knife or his bow so he could defend himself.

T
hen he spotted the hooded stranger, and his heart froze.
The huge man
was standing
a short distance away, short and stocky
and incredibly strong.
His arms and chest were so thick he resembled a bear. He was alone, and the absence of the two women who had accompanied him before made him seem even more monstrous, less human – except
a bear would not have
cruelty on his face
.
Even with half his features covered by the hood, Durak could see a savage, implacable resolve. This man wanted to kill, to kill
him
…

A desperate sensation of helplessness
overwhelmed Durak.
He reached for a rock, but
even before he hurled it
at the looming figure
he was sure it w
ould bounce off the solid body. A second later he knew he was
right.
The man paid no attention to the rock that had hit him. As Durak watched in horror, he pulled another arrow out of his quiver. Then he took a few steps to one side for better aim, set the arrow in his bow and raised
his massive arms
to shoot.
Eyes wide with desperation, Durak lurched away from him and tumbled into a shallow depression between two ridges
.

His
evasive movement came too late. He felt the arrow
thud
into
the middle of his
chest. The force of the blow sent him tumbling backward
, and he hit his head on the boulder.
He tried to crawl further away but he
was too dizzy to
move. But he must move, must rouse himself to warn Pila at least, to shout. He tried
to call out
, but
fear had frozen his voice.
The man stood where he was, watching, his face impassive, uncaring.

Despair surged into Durak. Was he going to die up here
just when he had finally found happiness again? What would happen to his beloved Pila? That was the most horrible. They were so happy, he thought disconnectedly, so happy, and now it would all disappear…
And Pila, his poor Pila… She could not fight a man like that; no one could, and he
could not
help her…

Great Mother
, he cried out, but knew the words did not come,
do not let this happen, not to Pila, not to us, who have finally found such love…

There was no answer, only the
sound of a chill wind whistling across the swollen lake, the coldness that numbed his bleeding body
. Just before he lost consciousness, Durak saw the man’s hood fall
away
from his face,
revealing
the terrible scarring.
The
maimed
features were twisted
with an emotion
Durak
could not name – was it grief, or rage, or both? He did not know.
Once more he
struggled to get up, to go to Pila
so he could
warn her, then his eyes closed and he ceased to move.

The man
watched
him
for a few more moments
. A
look of profound satisfaction
slowly
permeated his scarred face
, and his lips twisted into the grimace that passed for a smile. Then he turned and headed north.

CHAPTER TWENTY
ONE

P
ila lingered on the pallet by the fire after Durak had left to check his traps. Not until the baby began to wail with hunger did she stir. As always, she marveled at the perfection of her child as she nursed him.
He
was so beautiful, with his pale hair and blue-green eyes. Those eyes reminded her of someone, but she could not think who.

When the baby was satisfied and looking sleepy again, she put him in his cradle and went to the door to see if Durak was on his way back.

She could not see him, so she decided to go out and surprise him. Washing herself in the container of warmed water they kept near the fire for that purpose, she put on her clothes and her outer garments. Then she strapped the sleeping baby on her back and walked out into the
weak
sunshine.
Clouds still scudded across the sky, and the wind was cold, but at least the rain had stopped.

Slowly, she climbed the hill towards the lake, knowing that many of Durak’s traps were up there. She hated seeing the animals caught in them, and shrank from their
suffering
, but she was also sensible and knew they had to eat. Durak was always compassionate with the animals, too, and if they were not dead already, he killed them quickly so they would not suffer any more. Truly, Pila thought, Durak was the kindest, most noble man she had ever met.

She stopped to look up at the lake
, still overflowing its banks
after the torrential rains that had battered it
for so many days.
Her eyes roved across the meadows that surrounded it, seeking Durak. Then she saw him, not walking toward her, not walking anywhere
,
but lying motionless on his back. Shock paralyzed
Pila
for a moment. Then she broke into a run.

“Durak!” she screamed, unthinking of the need for caution. “Durak! What has happened to you? Durak, I am coming…”

There was no answer, but on the path below the hut Niva
, who was on her way to Runor’s village,
looked up sharply at the faint sound. That had been a woman
crying
out; she was sure of it.

Pila came into her mind. She and the others had looked for Pila many times, but they had not thought to look up by the old hut. It was so battered and forlorn that no one could live in it. And then she remembered Runor saying that she and Durak had repaired it so they could stay there with Rofina. Why had she not remembered that before? And Durak too was missing… Was it possible?

A strong sense of foreboding assaulted her. Could Pila be in danger?

She spoke urgently to the
young man beside her, whose name was Wulf.
“Did you hear that call?”

He nodded. “I see smoke, too.
We should go up there and
investigate. Perhaps Pila is there and the man
Zena
and Lief were asking about.”

Niva had already changed direction. “Hurry,” she said to her companion
.
“I have a strong feeling that something is wrong.
”

On the other side of the pass, Pila
clambered
up the hill to the lake, breathless with terror and unable to contain the shaking of her body. Durak had not answered. Did that mean he was dead? But he could not be dead, not now… But what if the hooded man had come back?

All thoughts went from her mind when she reached Durak and saw the arrow in his chest.

“Durak,” she moaned, taking his head gently in her arms. “Durak…”

Sobbing uncontrollably, she bent over him, her warm tears falling on his chilled face. Then practicality reasserted itself, as it always did in Pila. Her fingers moved of their own accord to Durak’s neck and then his wrist to feel for a pulse, her eyes went to his chest to look for breath. The pulse was weak but steady, so was his breathing.
She watched his chest move up and down
in quick shallow movements
and saw that even
the arrow wobbled a little. The sight horrified Pila even as it assured her that Durak was alive. He was hurt, but he was not dead. A fierce determination to keep him alive possessed her. She would take care of Durak as he had taken care of her, and he would get better again.

She must
take
him back to the hut
and get him warm. Then, when she had hot water and a clean knife, she would pull out the arrow very slowly, and then tend to the wound. She dared not do it now, lest it bleed uncontrollably. That would be worse than leaving the arrow where it was.

A list of items she would need ticked through
Pila’s
mind - hot water to clean the wound, soft strips of cloth for bandaging, a knife purified by fire to cut the arrow out if that was needed, the kind of pressure she should exert to pull at it.
She would need
herbs against infection and pain, too. Fortunately, she had collected all the herbs she could find during the time she had been here, and had made them into ointments and potions for various ailments. She had no idea
how
she had learned to
d
o
these
things
, nor did she wonder where she had learned to treat injuries and shock.
What
mattered to her now was that she knew what must be done, had done it before, and trusted herself to do it well.

That could make the difference between life and death for Durak, she thought with satisfaction. He had saved her with his patience and love; she would save him with her knowledge of healing. That she could give him, and she was glad.

A more difficult problem occurred to her. How was she to get Durak to the cabin? He was too heavy to carry, and dragging him would make the wound bleed.

The sled, she thought. The sled Durak had made to carry the deer he had shot. He had not wanted to butcher them where he had killed them, fearing predators, so he had made a sled
pulled by a harness and
taken
it
with him.
He had
brought the
deer
back that way. Now it could carry him.

Pila hesitated, wary of leaving
Durak
alone while she went to fetch it. The person who had shot him could still be lurking. Just as the though came into her mind, a man appeared at the top of the pass above the lake. Pila’s heart seemed to stop. Was it the man who had tried to kill Durak? She looked around for something to defend them with but saw only rocks. She picked one up with each hand and waited, her heart thumping hard now with terror.

Another figure appeared, a woman. Pila was sure it was. Her terror abated a little and then disappeared as the figures came closer and she recognized Niva and one of the young men who lived in her village. Pila’s grip on the stone relaxed.

“Niva,” she screamed. “Niva, you must help! Hurry. Durak has been shot!”

Only when the sound of her voice had died away did Pila remember that it was Niva who had taken her child away and readied it for sacrifice. Eyes wide with horror, she
clasped the stones hard
again
in readiness to throw them.

Another thought stayed her hands. She could move Durak more gently if she had help, and
Niva and the young man could provide it.
For Durak’s sake, she would
let them come.
But
n
o one, ever, would take her baby away again. She
was stronger now than before, and she
would guard
Noran
with her life if that was necessary.

The young man arrived first. Seeing the stones still clutched in Pila’s hands and her wary face, he reassured her. “You need not fear us,” he told her gently. “We are Mother People now, and Niva is our wise one.
”

Before Pila had a chance to digest this startling information, Niva arrived. She was
breathless from exertion.
“I am glad to find you again, Pila,”
she
said
when she
could speak.
“All of us looked for you many
times
after you disappeared.”

Without waiting for an answer, she knelt
on the other side of
Durak. “Who has done this terrible thing?” she
asked
, shocked.

“I do not know,” Pila replied, “except that we have seen
the
man with
the
hood over his face near here.
He is the one who
abducted
me.
”

Niva frowned. Pila must mean the man who made mead for the Leader that no one had ever seen. She had not known
that he was violent.

“
We must get Durak back to the hut
as fast as possible, so I can warm him and treat him,”
Pila
added quickly. “There is a sled we can use to carry him.”

“I will get it,” the young man offered.
Pila told him where it was and
he set off at a run for the
cabin.

“
H
ave you any furs in the hut that we can wrap around Durak?”
Niva asked.

Pila nodded. “Bring furs, any you can find,” she called after the young man.
He nodded and ran on
.
His name was Wulf, Pila thought, and he had always been kind to her. If they really were Mother People, perhaps she need not fear any more. She let the stones drop.

Pila took Durak’s hand and murmured reassurances to him while they waited for Wulf to return. “
You will soon be well again,
Durak,” she said softly
as she felt for his pulse again.
. “I do not think the arrow went in very far. We will get you warm…”

Her voice trailed off and worry clouded her eyes. The pulse was not as steady as it had been, and his breathing was even more shallow…

Niva watched
Pila’s
anxious
face and felt a
painful
wrenching in her heart. It
was
a familiar feeling, one that came each time she realized how much
damage she had done when she had brought Korg and the Leader into their lives. This girl had suffered terribly because of her…

But there was no time for recriminations now, she reproached herself. She must concentrate on caring for Durak and Pila.

“
Shall I try to take the arrow out?” she asked.

Pila shook her head. “No. I need to have my provisions nearby when we do that, to keep the wound from bleeding too much and to clean it.”

“That is good,” Niva agreed, and wondered how Pila knew these things.
She had seemed not to know anything when she had been with them.

Wulf arrived with the sled and the furs. Lining the sled with
one
of the coverings, they eased Durak gently onto
it and covered him with the other furs, taking care not to disturb the arrow. Since there was no snow
they could not pull the sled, so
Wulf lifted one end, while Pila and Niva took the other. In a shorter time than Pila had
bel
ie
ved
possible,
Durak
was resting on the pallet.

“Now, tell us
how we can help
,” Niva said.

“Wood for the fire,” Pila instructed, “and water from the stream behind the hut. I will need to heat some for cleaning the wound. I have herbs and ointments already. I have collected them since we came here.”

Wulf ran for the water, Niva for more firewood. Soon the fire was blazing, the water heating. When it was ready, Pila bent to her task. Now, all emotion fled
, and some inner knowledge seemed to take over her movements.
Her hand
s
closed around the arrow, felt
its depth
, seemed to sense the best way to get it out with the least damage.
Nodding to herself, Pila pulled a little, felt the resistance, pulled from a slightly different angle. Slowly, gently, the arrow came out.
Its barbs ripped some flesh from Durak’s chest, but not as much as Pila had feared.
Casting
the arrow
aside, she reached for the cloth warming in the pot and bathed the wound
thoroughly, ignoring Durak’s
muted
groan as her
skillful
fingers probed at his torn flesh
.

Niva and Wulf looked at each other, then back at Pila, the girl who had been so helpless, so unaware all the time she had been with them, and were amazed.

Of course, Niva
thought to herself
, Pila had been kept well sedated
. Again, that agonizing sense of shame filled her.
Korg had mixed the potions, but it was she who had
brought them to Pila and made sure old Krone gave them to the girl so she would not wake up enough to understand what would happen to her child.